Dual Anniversary
by saiph240
Summary: George Weasley and his family are preparing for the celebrations of yet another year since the end of the war, but first he is needed at St Mungo's once more for a painful morning with his brother on the Janus Thickey Ward. (T rating is probably over the top)


**Disclaimer – I own none of the characters (sadly) I just like to play with them :)**

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**Dual Anniversary**

_Dear Mr. Weasley,_

_ As I'm sure you are aware, the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts is once more upon us and though I imagine you will be celebrating with your family, I would like to enquire what time you will be visiting the ward. You know as well as all of us, that this time of year is particularly hard and unsettling for your brother. If you could answer by return owl, we will ensure he knows that you are coming. _

_Until tomorrow,_

_Healer Willow_

George Weasley sighed as he reread the letter that had arrived with the morning paper. He had sent his reply back immediately, but this evening was the first chance he'd gotten to sit down and actually think about what he was going to have to do. He felt a stab of guilt for wishing that he didn't have to go. It wasn't that he didn't like visiting his older brother; he loved him and visited him weekly normally, it was just he hated what he had to do at this time of year. He felt ashamed of the hope he had had, that in the year since the last anniversary, things may have moved forward somewhat. That this may not have been necessary again.

Giving himself a mental shake, he stood up and looked around the kitchen. Pictures adorned the cupboards including ones of his brother waving shyly at him. He may be skinnier and paler than he'd been growing up, with white streaks marring his Weasley red hair, but he was still there. _Things have got better_, he thought. It's just this time of year is always going to be hard. _It's hard for all of us a_ small voice whispered in his head.

"DADDY!" came a shout from the living room, shaking him from his contemplation.

"What is it Roxy?" replied George, stowing the letter in his pocket as he walked out to greet his daughter. He easily sidestepped a number of cardboard boxes full with new stock for the shop and lit the lamps with a flick of his wand.

"Dad! He said that unless I put an Acid Pop up my nose, I wouldn't be allowed to the party tomorrow!"

"I only wanted to see what would happen" Freddie stated calmly as though he had made a perfectly reasonable demand, "I wanted to know whether it would burn a hole through her nose and make one big nostril."

George had to stifle a grin at his son's remark. He really was so like he and Fred had been at his age. Although he had to admit that it felt rather different being on this side of these arguments. Now, being the parent… well he didn't fancy having to try and fix his daughters nose without her mother seeing.

"It's alright Roxy; you don't have to do it. And if he tries again, tell him you'll feed a Pepper Imp to his cat. That would be something I'd be interested in seeing myse-"

"George!" Angelina had come downstairs catching the end of his conversation.

"I was only joking dear" he stated despite knowing his innocent tone had stopped fooling his wife when they were around thirteen.

"Of course you were _dear_. Have you ever realised you only call me 'dear' when you're up to something?" Angelina replied with a roll of her eyes at her husband. She then turned to their children. "Why don't you two finish sorting your stuff out? We'll be heading to Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur's in the morning and I don't want to have to keep apparating back home all day for things you've forgotten again."

George ruffled his son's hair as he walked passed before retreating back into the kitchen to sit down. Taking out the letter again, he reread it for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.

"George when are you going to shift these boxes? It was OK when the kids were younger but, well Fred is as bad as you were! Twice I've caught him going through them, no doubt trying to find more things to torment his little sister with." She stopped when she caught sight of the St Mungo's emblem on the parchment her husband was fixated with and asked "Again? What time are you going to go love?"

"I've told them I'll go first thing; then I can spend the rest of the day with you and the others. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better one; better than last year at least."

The memory of the visit this time a year previous forced its way to the front of George's mind. His brother shouting, crying out. Shaking and clinging to him, trying to save him from a danger that wasn't there and had never been his in the first place. The Healers having to intervene and restrain him. Angelina reached over and stroked his face, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"It will get easier sweetheart, he will keep getting better. It's just going to take time, a lot of support from us along with some incredibly hard days for you, but he _will _get there". She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I'll take Fred and Roxy over to your parents around noon. That's if they haven't got themselves too over excited, in which case I might go over a bit earlier to let them run off some energy with the other kids. Besides, your mum will probably want some help with preparations."

"Mmm" George answered, his mind still on what he had to do in the morning before he could join in the celebrations. "Angie, do you think he minds us all celebrating the anniversary when it's… you know?"

Angelina didn't have to ask who her husband was talking about. Fred. He was always on the large Weasley family mind but this time of year more than ever. For most wizards and witches up and down the country, it was a time of complete festivity. There were many though, too many, whose celebrations were wrapped up in painful memories. Numerous families had lost loved ones in the battles to reach the state of peace they now enjoyed. Above all the surviving relatives of the fifty odd defenders who had lost their lives in the final fight at Hogwarts had had to learn to both celebrate and grieve simultaneously.

"No George, I know for a fact he wouldn't mind. When did Fred ever not want people to party? Would you if, Merlin forbid, it were the other way round? Would you want him to isolate himself on what has become such an important day for all of British Wizard kind? Or would you want him to join in and celebrate, set off a huge box of your own fireworks and wind up your family simply because you can?"

George thought for a moment and then smiled up at her. He knew she was right. He had known his twin better than anyone else and could almost see a look of disgust play across the face that had been so identical to his, if he thought George was turning down a chance to cause havoc. He grinned in spite of himself when he thought that Fred would probably think he had already calmed down his mischief making since he'd married and had children. Nevertheless choosing to mope around when there was a party going on was a complete contradiction to almost everything they had believed in.

Standing up and stretching, George wrapped Angelina up in a long cuddle and felt himself relax at the familiar smell of her hair. She, Fred and Roxanne more than anything, made George realise how far they'd come over the years. Tomorrow was just another thing he had to do to move forwards and he would do it. Of course he would, as hard as it always was. He'd do it tomorrow, next year and for as many more years as it took.

While Angelina ensured the kids had both packed enough clothing for the next few days, George extinguished the downstairs lamps and together they made their way to bed. Soon enough, the sound of her breathing told him that she was fast asleep but it felt like a long time before he joined her.

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When Angelina woke him the next morning, George felt like he'd barely shut his eyes. He dressed in jeans that were now a bit small until hit with a charm, a t-shirt and the newest jumper his mother still insisted on knitting for now not only her children but all members of the extended Weasley family. He also took out the other jumper he would have to change into when he got to the hospital. Stowing his wand in his pocket and throwing on his dragon skin jacket, he kissed Fred and Roxy goodbye and went downstairs to find his wife.

"Good luck love, I know it's hard, but it's the best for him for now. You're going to apparate straight to your parents after yes?"

"Yeah, I'll see you later," he replied with a sigh then pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Leaving the house, George turned and disapparated, reappearing in the muggle street hiding the entrance to St Mungo's. Ensuring no one was paying him any attention, he stepped through the storefront window with the permanently outdated mannequins and into the hospitals reception. As usual there was a wide range of people milling around. Some whose complaints were obvious; the man with what appeared to be a unicorn horn protruding from his forehead for example and others who could pass for visitors until they coughed up goldfish like the poor woman trying to talk to the Welcome-Witch. George didn't stop as he had no need to ask for directions; he knew the route by heart. One of the Healers on the locked Janus Thickey ward was waiting outside for him. Whilst he changed into the spare jumper he brought along, the Healer filled him in on his brothers' state today.

"He had quite an unsettled night, but that is to be expected with the time of year. Though the nightmares have continued into this morning, he does not seem quite as troubled as has become typical. We cannot conclusively say whether this is due to his bodies' exhaustion or whether the last twelve months improvement is finally carrying over at last." The Healer looked up at George and added, "I know how hard this must be for you but it will do him a lot of good to see you Mr. Weasley. Shall we go in then?"

The man walked into the locked, long-stay ward. George hesitated for the space of a heartbeat then followed him in. His heart thumped harder each step he took towards the closed curtains around his brother's bed. Stopping again to compose himself, he re-adjusted his shoulder-length hair to cover his missing ear as best he could. Pulling back the curtain he looked down at the shaking body of his older brother.

"Hey Percy, how are you feeling?"

Percy looked up at the sound of the voice and his eyes instinctively fixed upon the hand-knitted 'F' on George's jumper. "Fr-Fred?"

"Yes. It's me, Fred." George answered, aware of each word forming in his mouth and trying to make them sound believable.

Percy stared at him for a moment, tears starting to brim in his eyes and then he launched himself at George, pulling him towards him, clinging tightly to the jumper that had once been his twins.

"I…I thought, I had such horrible dreams, I thought… I could feel you, I was lying across you, trying to save you but you…you were…Fred I thought you were dead. And it was all my fault!" Percy started crying, howling. Shouting in a pain that could not be fixed with a potion or a wave of one's wand.

"It wasn't real Perce. It's never real. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." George choked out, holding onto his brother and stroking his dry white streaked hair.

"Fred…You Know Who, the fight. I remember it, you're dead. It's my fault. My little brother! It's always my fault. I should have done something, protected you. We should have moved. I LET THEM KILL YOU!"

The Healers stuck their heads around the curtains silently asking George if he needed assistance but he shook them away.

"Perce, listen to me, you are not to blame for anything. You need to stop this, you need to believe me. If you don't, nothing is going to change; you're going to be stuck here forever. Please…"

George was starting to cry too. He hated doing this to his brother, but they said it was the best way, the only way to keep him calmer around the anniversary. During the rest of the year Percy became more stable. He saw George for George and was even, in the last three years, beginning to accept that Fred was gone. When the date of Fred's death came around again though, all his advances disappeared. He was overcome once more by a grief that threatened to kill him if he didn't see Fred, or George as Fred at least.

The first few years had been the worst but then everyone had still been struggling that it took them too long to realise what it had been doing to Percy. By the time he was admitted to St Mungo's his magic was already so twisted in his grief and genuine belief that he was to blame that it was slowly killing him. He had already looked like a corpse himself. They had had another couple of years watching as his own magic literally stole the life from his body until Healer Willow had suggested George posing as Fred for that year's anniversary. Percy was so ill by then that they didn't believe his body could cope with another one without trying something new. George had been terrified and slightly sick with the thought but there was no way he couldn't try it. Not if it saved his brother's life.

Minutes turned into an hour and then another before Percy started calming down. He was still clinging on to Fred's old jumper; however his sobs were gradually subsiding. George continued to hold him, to try and protect him from the truth he was seeing.

"Fred?" A small voice finally croaked.

"Yes Perce?"

"Thank you"

George didn't need to ask what for. Although growing up he'd never been particularly close to Percy, these experiences with him over the years since the war had brought a unique bond between them. This was a private moment they shared. _All three of them_. George, Percy, and Fred. The Fred Percy wanted to see, and the Fred that George was secretly honoured to masquerade as for him.

As Percy began to drift off to sleep, George reached over and carefully tipped the Dreamless Sleep potion one of the Healers had left by the side of his bed into his mouth. Percy drank as if from a bottle and his grip on Fred's jumper loosened. George waited until his brothers breathing slowed to that of someone deep asleep, then laid him gently back down on his hospital bed.

Getting up, he watched Percy for a moment longer, then walked out and closed his curtains. Nodding to the Healer at the door George left the ward and stood outside in the cool corridor for a moment to compose himself. He looked down at the stitched 'F' on his chest and couldn't prevent the tear that escaped down his cheek.

"If only it was this easy to bring you back, even just for a bit. But when I _become_ you, I don't get to enjoy being _with _you." George whispered to the empty corridor before him.

Walking slowly down the stairs he took off Fred's old jumper and replaced it with the one his mother had knitted him. Although this one was his and fitted him far better, it never felt as comfortable when first exchanged with his twin's. Once back through the reception, he made his way out on to the street and stood in the weak May morning's sun looking around. Then when sure no one would notice him, he disapparated to the Burrow, to see the rest of his family and join in with the celebrations that would no doubt last the whole three day holiday.

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**This is an older story I wrote a few years ago that I found recently. I have touched up some of the errors I initially made but have left it pretty much as it was as I'm sure if I went through it completely it would no doubt turn out rather different now.**

**Anyway, thank you for reading and reviews are greatly appreciated.**


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